Everlasting Hype
by Vindicated
Summary: This is the softer side of my manic fanfiction. AngusOC. Oh, kids television, how I love thee. Let me count the ways.
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One:

**A long way from home.**

Christine untied her green sweater from around her waist and put it over her shoulders. It draped low, past her waistline and it was warm from the many hours spent tied around her stomach. She rubbed both arms and to no avail. She was still chilled to the bone. 'Oh, great, white fatness,' she thought. 'How I long for your warmth.'

Later on her thoughts were of ice cream and soda, chicken tender dinners, 6.95 at White City Pizza, the local donut shop. Anything to keep her mind off of the bitching cold winds and her bare neck. Her recent haircut was a great relief, it really was. No matter the conditioning treatment, she always felt ten pounds heavier with the mess of fur on her head. However, as she trekked across the open green, rocky plains of a coastal country, sticking moss around her neck and shoulders wasn't that bad of an idea. At least it would keep her warm. Fortunately there was a hood attached to her sweater. It didn't do much for the wind seeping through to her neck but it did provide some comfort, at least for the time being.

Several hours ago, the breeze was calm, soothing. Actually, it was a relief from the oppressive heat wave that just so happened to sneak around the corner of a quiet, little spring in New England. Christine stopped walking to take a breath and a look around. Night was falling as quickly as she blinked and without her glasses, she had the added disadvantage of blindness. There was a forest up ahead. This had been her destination since she had first landed here. Of course, 'landed' was not the best-fit word for her sort of predicament. After all, how does one explain falling asleep at the wheel in the middle of heavy, hot traffic to waking up in mystical, wintry tundra? The answer simply is: impossible.

At one point, she had considered she was still in a dreaming state but no matter how much she had desired some cool relief from the hell she was in, it was no match for her shock at actually getting what she wanted. The dreaming idea was plausible…for a brief second. When she started walking and tripped on a rock, tumbled down a small glen and 'landed' on a boulder jutting out of the ground, then it was a dream no longer.

The forest didn't seem so far away when she first saw it. Large and beautiful in summer green, the forest swayed in that gentle breeze and seeing that there was nothing else around, except of course for the enormous cliff that was behind her, leading into bitter icy water, which was slapping across the rock face, the forest was her best bet. Nature had always been something of a gift to her. She had seen it when she was a child and even into her later teens; however, the suburbs grew up around her and the forest in the back yard was reduced to a few trees and some shrubbery, nothing fancy. Everything was replaced with housing developments, stationary stores and (the worst of all) banks. That was the last thing her town needed and it seemed as though the commissioners of Shrewsbury were just begging for a whooping. Culture was dead enough without their help. Fortunately, she had escaped that fiasco and found some rapture in the natural Berkshires…until that, too, had been subject to building and developments. But even now, as night had settled, a familiar cold reminiscent of New England winter freezing her face rigid, there was a naïve fear of being alone yet it was the type of fear she had always been looking forward to. When the world would shut up. Wherever she was, it was ingenious. It was home.

Even if it meant camping out in the middle of a forest, she was just as invigorated as ever. Her fingers were solid blocks of ice but it didn't matter. Mud covered her hands and face as she searched around for thick pieces of dry wood. Not knowing much about camping except for what she had been taught as a child with her father, Christine found that the wood was relatively dry, which she concluded meant that it had not been raining…or snowing. Though it certainly felt as though it would at any moment. She panted after breaking a particularly hefty branch from a tree limb. It was dead anyhow but she still felt as though she was breaking apart of something else, something much more than what it seemed.

The logs were set up together, one lying on top of the other. Christine fished through her jean pockets and took out the pack of matches she always carried with her. Others thought her paranoid but she knew after years of watching MacGyver on T.V. reruns that anything could happen and she needed to be ready. Even so, Christine had always hoped that something like this would happen…and when it did, she felt some pride in knowing she had been right all along.

Christine searched for dry leaves and twigs and piled as much of it as she could in and around the logs. As soon as this was done, she lit a match. She had twelve left. Her lighter contained enough fluid to last her several months if she were to be ultra conservative with its use. But for now, that one little match started a spark, which ignited the dry leaves into a blazing inferno, one that Christine wished she could have been apart of. The fire grew steadily after several minutes and taking a last breath, Christine settled herself as close to the fire she could without burning her clothing and attempted to fall asleep.

To no avail.

Christine's eyes fluttered closed and snapped open as soon as there was a croak or a shuffling in the bushes. There was an occasional growling but whether it was a rapid animal or her stomach, Christine did not care to venture a guess. If she survived this night, apart from being torn to shreds by a hungry beast, kidnapped by some random men, freezing to death or having a panic attack so large it stops her heart from beating, it would be an accomplishment. And a challenge, both of which she had never really been successful with on the first attempt.

She shut her eyes and tried sleep again.

Until the crows started screeching.

Her watch told her she had at least fifteen minutes of undisturbed sleep the entire night through. But she had come through unscathed and one restless night was nothing to be worried about. It was only if she had gone through an entire week without sleep that she would have anxiety attacks. The seemingly useless trivia about R.E.M. sleep circled her mind as she started out from her makeshift campsite to venture further into the forest. Apparently she had only touched the skirts the day before. Now, her goal was to find a clearing of some kind or a hill, which would give her some view of where she was.

By noon that day, Christine found no clearing or hill and had stopped for a break. Her stomach rumbled. She rubbed it passionately in order to calm it down but her gut had gone through enough punishment for six months. 'A diet?' it had once said to her in her thoughts. 'A diet and exercise? But what about our fetish for food and laziness?'

She ignored her stomach rumbling and glanced around. The sun had been moving behind her for some time and she hoped that she was heading somewhere towards the east…although that hope was futile since she had no idea where she was to begin with. "Oh, what a quandary," she muttered. This brought back a memory of her friend Kaela, who would often say, "Hmm, this is most definitely a quandary, encased in a paradox and wrapped in an enigma of sorts." Christine smiled. Then, she laughed for it kept her awake. She broke into a torrent of giggles and felt more awake and focused, if only for a short while.

Two hours went by and after recuperating along the way she reached a trodden path, which she immediately broke down upon and began smearing with her kisses of relief. She bowed and said her thanks in a fit of more giggles and when her mirth had been fulfilled she stood, glancing in either direction. The path to her right led towards the west, where she had just come from, looking like miles of rocky terrain and overgrowth. To her left, the path was all hills and valleys, green and inviting. She sighed. Never one for making decisions, she took the path to her left, hoping that there would be some indication up ahead to direct her either backwards or onwards.

However, there was no indication, only more forest and one very long path. As she walked, she began humming songs. "Carry on you wayward son, they'll be peace when you are done…." It wasn't long before a wave of songs fulfilled the empty air and she was halfway through the second verse of a novelty theme song when all of a sudden she had an epiphany. Quickly, she ended that verse and felt her sense of innocence and laughter return when she hummed, "Mystic Knights…Tir Na Nog…." This continued for several minutes before she stopped singing all together. Weariness caught up to her and she sat on the side of the road, soaking up the last rays of the sun. Exhaustion won her over and she was sleeping within minutes, thinking of those Mystic Knights battling one of Maeve's pathetic attempts at a creature spawned from evil…and her dreams wandered her off to her subconscious, introducing her to nature in a very psychedelic way.

"Ow! What the f-" she stopped herself just as she realized her feet weren't touching the ground anymore. She looked around. Two arms gripped her by her waist and held her there in a very awkward position. Those arms were attached to a man no larger than a wooly mammoth and quite possibly twice as stupid. He wore armor and a helmet, which is why Christine couldn't see his face. It wouldn't have mattered anyhow if she were dead. "Hi," she said. Even in the worst of temperaments, she was willing to give this man some chance to explain himself. Also, she wanted to be on her feet before she did anything…rash.

"What are ye?" he growled, his voice distinctly Irish.

'Hm, interesting,' Christine thought. She mimicked his accent in the attempts to cover her American one. "A woman. Care to put me down?"

He looked her over. She could see just his eyes and they were dark but not menacing…just lusting. He growled a low chuckle. "That ye are. That ye are indeed." He nodded his head once and another soldier stepped forward. Christine noted they both bore the same emblem crests on their armor, though for the life of her she could not discern what it read in Gaelic.

The other soldier was about the same height but wider. His voice was very guttural, despite his Irish accent. "Where do ye hail from, woman?" asked this man.

He had that same lusting tone in his eyes and in his voice. "Why is it yer concern?" she asked.

The soldier stepped closer and fingered her sweater. "These cloths are foreign yet richly made. Either they are yers or…if worse comes to worse, they are stolen."

Christine raised her brow. "And what if they are stolen?"

"Oh…you do not want to know, milady. It would be better if you told us the truth."

The truth was she didn't stand a chance against them even if she was wild enough to try. Without their armor, she could knock them down flat. But she would cause more harm unto herself. She sighed, shaking her head and appearing to them to be breaking down. "Well, then, ya caught me."

"We did, did we?" asked the same soldier with a hint of menacing laughter in his tone.

She looked saddened. "Aye. Because the truth is, boys, I am…a refugee…from me home, which has been raided by soldiers such as yerselves."

The soldiers glanced at each other. The soldier holding her dropped her and she hit another rock as she landed. A tapestry of obscenities accumulated within her mind but she kept her mouth shut. The other soldier had unsheathed his dagger and held it to her throat. Christine held her breath. "Bitch, ye will tell us the truth or so help Mider we will skin ye alive."

She highly doubted they would do so before having their way with her. She knew six months of heavy duty training at the gym turned flab into fit and it was well worth a look; however, just as she had been wishing for that flab since yesterday when she had been freezing to the bone, she wished for it again if only to not attract them like moths to a roaring, hot flame. Besides that, he had called her bitch and that she was not. She had earned her figure and was going to use it, so help her by the beard of Zeus she was going to use it. "All right. I can understand ye are afraid of me because I am different. But ye will achieve nothin' if ye cut me alive here and now. And I don't suppose yer boss'll be pleased to have damaged goods if ye decide to murder me so we can handle this in one of two ways. You can take me to yer boss where I will be chained and locked in the dungeons of an enormous castle until I talk or…" she paused, dragging out the moment for dramatic sake. "I can fight fer me life, fair and square."

The soldier with the dagger considered this and then erupted into a guffaw. The other soldier followed suit and only stopped when his comrade replaced his dagger. "All right, you can have yer match. Yer a right fiery lass though I do not suppose that will help ye at all."

"I have one request," she said.

"And pray tell what is that?" he asked.

"No armor." The soldier placed to hands on his hip. "Now, now," she said, sitting up. "I have no weapons on me person, of that you can check if it pleases you; however, we fight equally. No blade. No armor. No nothing. Just bare hands and limbs…and we hit below the belt," she added.

The soldier agreed to her terms and as he removed his helmet, brown hair fell out and stuck to his head with the grease of weeks without bathing. He actually smelled worse when he removed his armor, if that was at all possible.

Christine turned her head to avoid the smell because it made her nauseous. "If I win," she said to him as he placed down his armor. "You must find yerself a pond and take a long, long bath."

The soldier sniffed himself. He shrugged. "The lady worries about me. How kind."

"It is for my sense of smell and not yer sake I say this, believe me," she said.

The soldier narrowed his eyes. "When I win, I will bed you before I clean yer mouth out with a bar of soap."

"I do not suppose you know what soap even is," she said, smiling. "But that is only fair."

The soldier grinned. "This should be enlightening."

Christine huffed. "I hope so."

However, just as they began to near each other, a bolt of fire whizzed by, hitting the soldier's armor and leaving it in ashes. The soldiers froze. They stared down the path at a figure aiming his sword; however, Christine did not see him, as she had been busy running off the path, up the small hill and into the forest. She heard shouting but ignored it, gunning her legs up and forward as fast as possible. And it was also at this point that she was grateful to have been wearing her Adidas that day. She jumped behind a large tree and glanced around the trunk. No one had followed her, until she saw the bobbing, curly-blond head of a man running towards her. She bolted and she kept glancing over her shoulder. Unfortunately, she came upon a wide river. No bridge was present. She panted. Her heart thumped in her chest as though it wanted to burst through. "I don't need this," she sighed.

Christine looked over her shoulder just as the figure came running towards her, sword in hand and shield across his shoulder. "Wait!" he shouted.

"Ha," she said. However, just as she was about to charge down the river, she recognized something about this soldier and knowing not what it was, she dared to see what it was, allowing him to come closer. She squinted and through the blurry vision, she saw that he wore a red shirt with gold ringlets chained together to create a unique form of mail across his chest. She had seen this before. Her eyes widened and her heart beat faster if it were all at possible. As he came closer, there was no doubt in her mind, even if her eyes were failing. She stood, frozen, unable to make connections within her brain.

He ran up to her and stopped just as he came to the river. "Wait," he breathed. "I mean no harm."

Christine paused, hesitant to speak or to move or to do anything wrong. This was a first impression after all. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry for running." She had dropped the accent, knowing full well that he would not harm her. The other soldiers would have. Of course they would have…because they were _Temrans_, soldiers of the castle of Temra, ruled by Queen Maeve, toughest broad in ancient Ireland. An enormous grin broke her face and she could stifle her giggles no longer. He was frowning and backed up slowly. "No, don't go," she said. "I…didn't mean to startle you," she said. "I'm just in shock. Do my eyes deceive me or am I standing in the midst of the warrior Draganta himself?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "You recognize me?" he said.

"Of course I do!" she shouted. "You're Rohan, the Mystic Knight of Fire! Holy Dagda!" she laughed.

Slowly, Rohan relaxed though he still held his sword in front of him. "I'm sorry but how do you know who I am? Have we met?"

"No," she shook her head. "Name's Christine." She stuck out her hand. Rohan took it and shook briefly. "This is just as bizarre to you as it is to me but if you don't mind my asking, how far is the Kells village from here?"

"Kells village?" he asked as though he had never heard those words before. "Oh," he said, shaking his head. " 'Tis not far. 'Bout several miles, ne'er half days' walk."

"Good," she said. "I'm starved. And I'm sure you want an explanation."

He nodded. "That would help."

"Right," she said. "Well, the best remedy for a short temper is a long walk. But in this case, it's lack of information that needs remedying. Don't worry, Rohan. You'll get your information, even if it kills me to talk for the next few hours about the future."

Rohan's face dropped. "The future?"

She walked up to him. "Trust me, there's no one here as curious as me about this rather miraculous time traveling. Don't sweat it. I'll fill you in as much as I can and then perhaps we can grab a bite to eat, if you don't mind," she said.

He shook his head. "No, not at all."

She smiled. "You know, no matter how many times people have said this about actors, it's still true. You definitely look taller in real life."

He raised his brow and after that the explanations came flowing out of Christine.

Half of what she said rolled over Rohan as he didn't comprehend any of it. The future he understood was 'modernized,' or in the very least, different. There were no dragons, no faeries, no kings and queens, save for scattered royal families across the globe…but they apparently held no real form of power. There were poor families and rich families and then there were families who resided somewhere in the middle. That was where power could be attained. The middle-class caste could live in luxury and not be rich, could afford just the bare minimum and not be poor. But, she said with a brooding frown, the middle-class was slowly being depleted in the country she hailed from, called the United States of America. Even as she said her country's name, there was hint of acidity towards it. "How is feudalism going, by the way?" she asked.

"Uh, fine, I suppose," said Rohan. "Actually," he added, feeling a little less tense now that they had been on speaking terms. "It is more like you have described yer country. We have some form of middle-class but they are scattered around and only own the inns and mind the shops…or so the stories go."

"Let me guess, the nearest city you have is in England?"

"They're just stories," he said. "But even so, if it is happening in yer time, like ye say, than it must be happening elsewhere and that is where it must all beginning."

"Yes, all of our problems began with England but that changed as soon as America was created in 1776. By that time, there had been several generations worth of people living there who were not born in England and who had raided the natives' homelands, kicking them out and killing them in order to control more land. We're no land of innocence," she said. "No matter how the American government tries to sell us out to other countries in the world."

Rohan glanced sidelong at her. "Ye really have a disliking for yer home."

"Oh, trust me, there's something to like about a country you're born in. It's something you can't help." She looked down. "But just try to imagine Kells as a place run by hypocrites and idiots who believe them. Try having an opinion and then be scoffed at for being different or for expressing yourself in a way that's unique and original. I can tell you right now that you would definitely feel some resentment."

They paused and walked in silence for several minutes. Then, Rohan said, "You still have not told me about how you know me."

Christine let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah…I was getting around to that. In fact, as I was telling you about television and films, I was thinking about how I was going to go about this particular bit of information. And I can tell you, it won't be that easy for either one of us to understand."

"Why is that?" he asked.

"Because," she said, turning to look at him. "You're not real."

He stopped walking. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, that was a bit harsh. But I'd rather jump into the pool rather than keep dipping my toes in, don't you? Anyway," she continued. "In my time, you were played by an actor in a television show. Surprisingly, you both are identical, which would logically seem impossible but who am I to judge what's impossible and what's not, right? After all, who's the only one here who did some time traveling to get here?"

"An actor portrays me in this television ye keep talking about," he said, formulating the words slowly. "Which means that I am not real. But how can that be if he is portraying me?"

"Well, that's the point I'm trying to make," she said. "You were a made up character. Oh sure, the creators of the show had some influence with Celtic legends. In fact, that's where they had got some of the biggest names: Chonchobar, Maeve, Kells. The Mystic Knights of Tir Na Nog is what they called the show in an attempt to sell it to young kids seeking thirty minutes of action-packed medieval kick-assiness. I was hooked," she said with a grin. "Oh, but don't look so glum. You were the main character."

"I was?" he said, straightening.

"Oh yea," she said. "In fact, the transformation scenes you had with your armor took the longest out of all the Mystic Knights. You had at least an extra minute devoted to your armor-changing-thing but if you really want to know my opinion on the subject matter, it really sucked. They kind of cheesed out on the graphics and everything just looked fake. So did the monsters you and your friends battled as well as the fire power your weapons produced. Oh, but when you scared off those Temrans back there, it was certainly real enough for me."

"Thank Dagda, I guess," he said.

Christine laughed. "You're funny."

"What else did they show on that television about me?"

Christine looked at him slyly. "Why? Are you embarrassed about something?"

"No," he said right away. "I'm just…curious. There were other actors, yes? Ones who portrayed my friends?"

"Yeah, of course," said Christine. "What are you trying to get at, Rohan? Spill it out."

He hesitated. "Well, you said you knew all of the Mystic Knights by name and weapon."

"Still do," she said.

"Uh," he sighed. "What did they have to say about…uh, never mind."

A small smile crept into the corners of Christine's mouth. "Rohan," she said.

"Yes," he said.

"You and Deidre."

"What about?" he said a little more sharply than he intended.

Christine sighed, knowing full well what he was fretting about. "Unfortunately, the producers of the show had to cancel because they went about a billion dollars over budget with the transformation scenes and special effects so the show only lasted one season, or fifty episodes. Almost all of those episodes hinted at you and Deidre but nothing really heated up until Garrett showed up. That's when the show got interesting."

"And why is that?" he snapped. She glanced up at him and then cast her glance down, ashamed. Feeling guilty, Rohan softened. "Sorry."

"No, don't be. It's certainly a tender subject…especially since I don't know what's happened since that last episode."

"Why?" he asked. "What happened?"

"Well, as I can remember far back into the recesses of my memory," she sighed. "You got hurt badly and Cathbad had to do some miracle work to revive you. Deidre had expressed some sincere concern for you and when you woke up she was all emotional like she had never been before over you…and then the show was cancelled and my jaw could be heard hitting the floor miles away." She laughed and Rohan lightened up. "I hate it when they do that." She shook her head.

Rohan smiled. "If it's any help, not much time has passed since that time and now. Maeve was banished but a month ago but there is still the threat of her sister Numaine and the beast Lugad looming in our future."

"So then you know Maeve is your mother," she stated.

He sighed. "Yes," he said softly.

"Hey," she perked up. "Is that a village I see up ahead?"

"Yes," he said. "We should be there within the hour."

"Yes," she hissed. A sudden jolt of energy ran through her body and her stomach did flips. She bit her lip, afraid to touch this next subject. "You know, you may have been the main character but the one Mystic Knight I fancied was your friend Angus."

"Angus?" he said laughing. "I never took ye fer a daft woman but for Lugh's sake why Angus?"

"Oh, it's not that I fancied him in that way," she said a little too quickly. "I just…well, it's kind of hard to explain really."

Rohan gave her a sly grin. "And just what are you trying to get at, Christine? Why don't you spill it out?"

She narrowed her eyes and punched his arm. "Using my words against me. How unfair."

"Well you brought it up," he said.

"Only because I didn't want you to think the world revolved around you," she said.

"Ouch," said Rohan.

They both laughed and entered the camp minutes later. "So you think I'll be getting a lot of stares?" she asked.

He glanced at her. "Oho, yes."

She smirked. "Thanks."

As she predicted, there were many stares in her direction but as soon as the villagers saw that she was walking beside Rohan, they eased up a little. Though they kept a watchful eye on her as she passed.

One eye was keen in watching her as she walked towards them and he nudged his friend in the shoulder.

"What, Ivar? I'm busy," said Angus. He turned around and immediately dropped the coin he had been examining. "Good Lugh have mercy," he breathed. "Who's that with Rohan?"

"I have no idea," said Ivar. "But I am sure he will tell us in due course."

Angus licked his lips. "I sure hope he does."

Upon catching his eye, Christine's entire body went rigid and she tensed, forcing her legs to walk calmly. She took several breaths and turned away from his glance to look at the other villagers, pretending to not know whom he was. She felt as though her heart would implode as soon as they were within several feet of them. Ivar stood and bowed his head. "Rohan…you have brought a stranger. I thought you said you were just out for a long walk and some time alone." His eyes were fiercely calm, a trait Christine had not picked up on in the show. He looked at her with those eyes and she smiled. "Milady, I am Prince Ivar."

"I know," she said.

Ivar raised an eyebrow. He glanced at Rohan. "You have informed her of me."

Rohan crossed his arms. "Nope. I found her on the main road with two Temran soldiers, no doubt acting upon their own orders. She ran but I caught up with her and…well, Christine seems to know more about us than we do."

Christine had not been paying attention, however. She had blocked out all conversation in order keep herself from passing out with the anxiety. She shook her head and continued smiling at Ivar. "Pardon me, Rohan," she said, "But all of this is too much excitement for me. Meeting you was extraordinary but to meet Prince Ivar and Angus…." She glanced down at Angus as she said this, "Is, for lack of a better word, heavenly."

Angus broke into a broad grin. "Well what d'ye know? She called us heavenly, Ivar." He cocked his head to the side to stare up at Ivar. Then, he stood up and held out his hand. "Milady."

Her hand was trembling as she shook his hand. She giggled as he lowered to gently kiss the back of her hand. "You are something else, Angus," she said.

Ivar rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you tell them how you came to know all of this?" asked Rohan.

Christine released her grip and reluctantly Angus let go. She turned to look at Rohan and said, "Would you minded if I had something to eat before I go into another deep discussion? No offense, but talking to you Rohan has made me famished. That and two days without sleep or food."

"We should take her to the castle," suggested Angus. "The kitchens are always open."

"To you they always were but to everyone else you're just a regular nuisance with a hole in your stomach," she said. When he stood taken aback by her sudden personal response, she giggled. "Sorry," she blushed. "I'm just nervous. Words kind of just...spill out unceremoniously when I'm all a jitter. Rohan's right. My stomach can wait. I think you all deserve to know who I am before we cancontinue any further."

"We should go up to the castle," said Rohan. "It would save you the extra conversation."

"Good thinking," said Angus, rubbing his hands together. "I could go fer some roast lamb."

Christine laughed. "Your appetite is even greater than what they showed on T.V."

"T.V.?" he asked. "What in hell's name is that?"

Sighing, Christine glanced at them all, giving a knowing look to Rohan, and said, "A box of stupidity wrapped in an enigma but I shall get to that later. First things first, though. My name is Christine Blake. And I'm from…well, the future," she shrugged.


	2. Chapter Two

_Disclaimer: Don't own MK. Don't want to. Just want the show back. Is that so much to ask?_

_Note: This is just trash. Pure and simple. Have fun._

**Chapter Two:**

**Did you say everything you could?**

"Kells castle," Christine breathed. "I just can't…believe it. It's…incredible. It's…awesome. I…." She stopped talking. Her mouth dropped lower and nothing escaped except for air. The castle was large, full of armed guards and even in the dim light it was still magnificent.

Angus stopped walking when he realized that she wasn't walking next to him. He turned around and looked down at her. "Are…you all right?"

"It's…nothing. Just a childhood fantasy is all," she shrugged. "I've never seen an actual castle…and to see one in its prime condition…and unscathed by businessmen trying to turn it into an amusement park…I'm just shocked."

Angus cocked his head to the side. "You've never seen a castle? Didn't they have any where you're from?"

Christine stopped herself from saying no. "Actually, we do. Except they're fake, just replicas, and they're not even that good, really. Huh, interesting," she sighed.

Angus shrugged. "It's just a castle."

"Think of it from my perspective, Angus," she said, walking up to him.

He frowned, crossing his arms. Rohan was having a word with one of the guards and within minutes the doors were opened to let the Mystic Knights in with their latest stranger. Angus strayed behind to glimpse up at the castle and attempting to see Kells as though it were the first time, he still did not realize what she was talking about. He caught up with her as they began to walk in. "It's still just a castle," he said.

"To you, it's home. To me," she let out a long sigh. "It's history."

"Where are you from?" he asked. "The moon?"

"No, the future," she said. "And the moon isn't that far out of our grasp."

Angus's eyes widened. "You mean, you've actually been on the moon?"

"Not me, no," she said. "There were several men sent into outer space by my government in the year 1969. But that was years before I was born."

Angus stepped to the side to let her pass into the entrance leading into the castle. Christine felt as though she were walking through a museum. The corridors were long and were lit with torches on each wall. She felt the air escape from her breath. "Did yer people have sorcerers and the like to, you know, send men to the moon?" he asked as they ascended a staircase.

Christine chuckled. "No. I'm sorry, Angus, but there's no such thing as magic where I'm from."

"No magic?" he frowned. "Hey, Rohan, did ye hear that? There's no magic in the future, which means Maeve must have conquered."

Rohan rolled his eyes. He said over his soldier, "Christine says they have something in replace of magic. It's called…what was that elect-ical thing you were talking about?" he asked.

"You mean electricity?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's it," he said, stopping in the hall. He looked at Ivar then at Angus. "We should tell the king who she is first and then ask Cathbad about this. Maybe he has had a vision of her coming."

"Well don't make me sound like the Messiah or anything, geez," she sighed.

"The who?" asked Rohan as he looked down at her.

"Nothing," she said shaking her head.

Rohan nodded once and then proceeded to lead the way into the throne room. Christine's smile broke her face. Angus glanced at her and when he saw her smile, he immediately asked, "What is it?"

"It's just the way I remember it," she said.

His face dropped. "How on earth can you say the throne room looks exactly like you've remembered it and yet you say you've never seen a castle in yer life?"

"Settle down, Angus," said Rohan. "It'll all be explained soon enough as soon as the king and Cathbad get here."

Angus crossed his arms and heaved a sigh.

A guardsman entered the throne room and announced the arrival of the king. In he strode, his face sagging underneath his shaggy beard. His robes draped down to the floor and despite the extra pounds he had put on over the years, he still displayed some age-old magnificence from his warrior days. Christine bowed low as soon as the other knights did. Following behind him was Cathbad, the placid druid of Kells, who looked on with less than mild understanding.

"Rohan," he said. "The soldiers informed me of a stranger. Is this she?" he asked, nodding to Christine.

"Yes, your majesty," he said. Christine watched their protocol and maintained a steady silence as she waited for a cue of some kind. "Her name is Christine and claims that she is from the future. But," he added with a sharp glance her way, "It is her word against ours. Suffice to say, she has told us many things of the future but thus far she has not yet proven what she tells us is the truth."

Suddenly, Christine's insides plummeted. Rohan did not trust her. Of course, he had as good reason as any to not trust her. It was strange that she could not provide them with any proof, with the exception of the clothes she wore.

"A time traveler?" said the king gruffly. He looked down at Christine.

Taking this as her cue, she broadened her shoulders and matched his stare. "Yes, your majesty," she said.

"Well, speak," he said, waving his hand as he lowered himself into his throne. Beside him, Deidre, a redheaded, fiery princess, stood, eying Christine with what seemed to be heavy suspicion. She glanced at Rohan and back at Christine.

"Where to begin?" asked Christine.

"Why not from how you came to be here?" Cathbad asked. His eyes were kind yet there was a wary firmness with which he anticipated her response.

She shrugged. "Sure, I guess. Uh, well, I was in the middle of heavy traffic, waiting to get out of my hometown of Shrewsbury. With the heat wave and the ten-car pile up in front of me, I could have been in the middle of the Sahara desert on a boat. So basically I wasn't going anywhere for a while, if you know what I mean." She paused. Thus far, no one had interrupted her but they would have questions, this Christine was sure of, for when she spoke, the king tapped his fingers, the princess fingered the hilt of her dagger strapped to her waist and Ivar, the most cool, calm and collected of them all, blinked too often. Christine continued. "Well, I was exhausted. I was born in a cold climate and I've never been fond of heat. It makes me very tired and sometimes gives me horrendous headaches. I must have fallen asleep at the wheel of my car because when I woke up, I wasn't in my car anymore…and it was a wee bit chilly. Coincidentally, I had my sweater with me that day because I was going to see a movie and the theatres are always freezing…but wait, you probably have no idea what I'm talking about…sir." She put her hands behind her back and looked down at the ground.

"No," said the king. "I don't. Cathbad," he said. "Do you understand any of this?" he asked.

Cathbad raised his eyebrows. "Unfortunately I don't. But I am rather curious about these…cars. What are they?"

"Automobiles. Like wagons but without horses," she said, hoping to make some connection.

"Oh," said Cathbad. "And you are from the future world so transportation must have developed considerably." He nodded. "Interesting. And please tell us, what does the rest of this world of yers look like? I assume it has changed or else you would not seem so foreign to us."

'Ok, well that was obvious,' she thought. She smiled. "Yes, oh yes, it's changed. For instance, where I'm from, there are many buildings, as tall as castles or as small as huts and they're scattered everywhere. Feudalism has been banished by the system of government in my country. There is no monarchy: no kings, no queens, no dukes. Just a president. But he's just an icon, really. He holds no real power, except of course to declare war but even then he needs the approval of the Congress, where the real power is. At least, that's how it should have been several years ago when we got ourselves involved in a very ridiculous war with the Middle East."

"Ah, so times have not changed," said Ivar.

Christine frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The surroundings in which you live are different but the people, milady, have not changed. There is still warring in the world."

"You were always the wise one," said Christine.

Ivar seemed uncertain of this sudden comment. "Well, thank you, milady," he said.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to break up this fancy talk," said Angus. "But could you please tell us about how you know us? I mean, you've already told Rohan. Why not tell us?"

Christine shrugged. "All right already. So impatient. That was something I noticed about you on the show. You were always rash and giddy like a school boy."

"So," he said.

"What? I didn't mean anything by it," she said, feeling embarrassed. "It gave you character, is all I'm saying."

Angus straightened. "Really?" His look was sly.

With a grin, Christine repeated to the four Mystic Knights, King Conchobar and Cathbad what she had said to Rohan. When she had finished, which really didn't take too long, the room was in silent, brooding thought. Either someone was too hesitant to speak for fear of breaking that silence or no one could come up with a good response.

"So," said Angus first of them all. His arms were crossed and his brow was furrowed in deep thought, something which made Christine giddy in anticipation for a quip or a funny line of some kind. "You've been watching us…do everything?"

"Everything 'cept taking a bath," she said. She laughed at his surprise. "It was a kids' show for chrissake!" she shouted. "I mean even after the first few episodes, they had to scale it down a bit because right-wing critics thought it was 'too violent.' Sheesh, if you can believe that," she muttered. "The show would have done well had they stopped pumping in moral values and spent so much time on those transformation sequences, of which were horribly done in the first place. And Rohan's took too long on most episodes," she added.

Rohan frowned. "What do ye mean?" He was agitated. Christine backed down. "These transformation sequences may be child's play to you but they really do happen," he said. "I don't care if ye think they take too long or not."

"It does kind of drag on when ye call on yer armor, Rohan," said Angus, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well it's not me fault, now is it?" snapped Rohan.

"I never said it was," Angus said. "I was just agreeing with Christine. Princess," he said, turning to Deidre. "Ye must admit that when we call on our armor, Draganta's a wee bit slower than the rest of us. I'm already down to ten shots of me mace and he finally jumps in."

"Angus," said Deidre. "Ye know that isn't true. And besides," she said, glancing at Christine with eyes of ice. "It isn't Rohan's fault."

"I never said it was true here," said Christine fending off the criticism. "Angus, once again, you have proven that you are impatient. I was only referring to the way the show produced the transformation sequences. You just assumed I was talking about the real thing."

"Well, excuse me," he said, taken aback.

"Ye are rather rude," said Deidre.

"What?" he said just as Chonchobar raised a hand. "Settle down, children. Let's behave. I don't want a brawl in my throne room while I'm here. Matter of fact, I don't want a brawl while I'm not here so let's all keep our wits about us. Christine," he said, "I do believe you have given us enough of an explanation. For now. However, I want to know what caused this and why you are here. Perhaps Fin Varra will have an answer." The king paused in thought.

"More like a riddle," mumbled Angus.

"Rohan, you and Ivar can go to Tir Na Nog and talk to the fairy king." Both Mystic Knights bowed their heads and mumbled 'yes, milord.' The king turned to his daughter. "Deidre, I want you to show our new guest to quarters of her own. I have a feeling she will be staying with us for a while."

"And what about me?" asked Angus. His face was expectant, like kids to potential candy.

The king grumbled. "I need you to patrol the borders. Some of the guardsmen have become agitated at the number of complaints from the villagers, who say their sheep are disappearing. Which is also reason why our menu has changed for this evening's meal," he added under his breath.

Angus's deft hearing capabilities picked up that remark and his eyes widened. "No, it can't be. Ah, I was really looking forward to a roast tonight," he whined.

The king seemed to want to agree; however, he kept his lips pursed. Angus turned around, feeling dejected, and began to walk out of the throne room. He glanced at Christine once more, getting a sense of vertigo as he did so and disappeared out of the throne room. Ivar and Rohan followed. And then, it was Christine, Deidre, the king and the druid.

"Well," said Christine. "I've always wondered what was on the other floors." She looked at Deidre, who seemed unnerved, though kept her silence.


	3. Chapter Three

_Note: I was dreaming when I wrote this, so sue me if it goes too fast._

Chapter Three:

**Dagda help us.**

"I'm sorry if I've upset you, Princess Deidre," said Christine. There was a heavy silence that had attached itself to the princess as the two of them began making their way around the castle.

"Why would say a thing like that?" the princess said, her fingers gripping around the crossbow.

"Well, to be frank, you seem pissed about something," said Christine. "I just assumed it was something I had said back there in the throne room."

Deidre stopped walking and looked as though she were struggling with her words. "Look, it's not…it's not often there is someone who comes to this castle and claims they've seen into the lives of every single individual. In a way, it's a violation of privacy so excuse me if I am a little tense." She turned on her heel in a small huff.

"Like I said, Princess Deidre," said Christine, following. "The show was too soft to be anything but childish. There was nothing scandalous about it. But, I understand why you value your privacy so much. I know. If I were a woman living in this time period, I would hate being considered weak because I wasn't a man. I would fight but I probably wouldn't be as good as you are with that crossbow."

Deidre stopped again. This time, there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "I never for one second thought I was weak."

Christine hesitated. "Can I just make a comment?"

Deidre crossed her arms. "Sure."

"Those boots are awesome."

The princess looked down at her feet and seemed to notice her knee-high boots for the first time. "Thanks," she said. "Uh, I've never actually had anyone say they were…well, I hope what you said was good."

"I know you're not weak, princess," said Christine, now that she had caught Deidre's full attention. "If it weren't for your sass n' frass, I probably wouldn't have felt so confident at school. Those kids were mean and whether you like or not, the show about you and your friends saved my sensibility. Weird, eh?" They both laughed.

"Yes, it is most definitely weird," said Deidre. "Uh, I apologize for not being the perfect host. I'm just," she stopped herself, hesitant to say what she wanted to say in front of a stranger.

Christine rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm just trying to be as open as possible. Truth be told, I'm a nervous wreck. I still think I'm stuck within my own mind because I'm afraid to believe that what I'm seeing is real. So, here I am, bleeding my heart out on my sleeve because in a world of fear and darkness, I was lucky enough to find people, who I had once believed in as a child. There's a part of me that wants to believe everything I'm seeing is real but there's an even larger part of myself that is afraid that I will lose my sanity to this. I just want to be sure. We all want to be sure. For the first time in my life, I don't know who I am and it's very unnerving but I think if I can say something about it right here and now it will save me the trouble later on of cracking under the pressure. I know; this is weird for all of us. I wish I could say something that would make it all better but I'm afraid I don't know what that is. I hope you understand."

Deidre had been listening to Christine with an open-mind. Her features had softened as she saw that this young woman, no older than she, was giving up all that she had in order to earn the princess's trust. She nodded. "Of course I understand. And Kells welcomes you with open arms, as do I. Here, you will be safe until we find a way to get you back home."

Christine smiled sadly. "I thank you for your understanding; however, I don't think I will be able to get back home."

"Well, we'll have to wait for the boys to come back with their news, won't we?"

"King Fin Varra doesn't have all the answers all of the time," said Christine.

"Ye never know," she said, leading the two of them down an adjourning corridor. "He always has something up his sleeve."

"Besides gold?" asked Christine.

Deidre nodded. "Exactly."

* * *

Angus grumbled as he climbed the hill to meet up with two Kells guardsmen. "What's the complaint?" he asked. 

One guardsman spoke, "The villagers want to know why their sheep are missing. Said they've been seeing ghosts coming in and swiping their livestock right under their noses."

"Really?" Angus said, crossing his arms. "This is quite a quandary." He thought of Christine as he said that. He didn't know why. She was just like any other woman he was temporarily infatuated with. He shook his head. "Uh, what else have ye got?"

"Nothing," said the other guardsman, "Except this bit of cloth." He handed Angus a thick strip of blue-dyed wool. "It was found in one of the fields where the sheep were."

"Hmm," he mused. "That's it, huh?" He sighed. "Well, good work boys. I'll be sure to give ye a shout when I need ye." He took the cloth and made his way down the other side of the hill towards a small farm.

There was an older man with a kerchief in his hand, pressing against the back of his neck.

"Hello, there!" said Angus.

The old man waved his hand. "Good day to you, sir," he said.

'Sir,' thought Angus. 'I like that.' "And what news of you of this pestering spirit?" he asked.

" 'Twas no spirit, I saw and don't ye be lettin' them boys up the hill tell ye otherwise. Tha's just what they wantin' you to believe, itn't it? Ah," he said, snapping his arm as though to swat a fly.

"Word is these livestock are disappearing and no one has seen who's done it," said Angus. "Have you got an answer to this mystery?"

"Aye, that I have, that I have," he said. He leaned back against the wooden gates. "You will pardon an old man. I've just been tilling the fields for this season's harvest. The crop's may be renewed but me back sure isn't. Ye wait, son," he said. "Once ye've lived as long as I, it don't matter if a few sheep go missin' until the wife notices, that is," he added with a sly grin. "Then, it might be right to tend to the flock. Speakin' of which, ye must 'ave been sent by the king, then?"

"Aye," said Angus.

The old man sighed. "Yep. They're some sheep missin' from these fields. Some horses, I'll bet, too."

Angus frowned. "Why is that?"

"Oh, well, there 'ave been all manner of poachin' goin' on since ol' Maeve's been banished, what an' with her sloppy soldiers saunterin' around the villages. They're just lookin' for trouble to cause since they've got no orders of their own. I suppose ye might wanna inform the good king that he's got more'n just spirits roamin' his villages. Ye tell him that Seamus, the broken down, old man hasn't been mindin' the fields all that well on account of his stiff back."

"I'll tell him you've been doing yer job and that a bunch of mindless Temrans have been scaring the villagers," said Angus. "There's no need to make yerself the criminal. Trust me on that one," he added with a sly grin of his own.

The old man Seamus nodded and pat Angus's arm. "I thank ye, son. But I'm not as worried about the king as I am the missus." Seamus seemed to shudder. "Well, I suppose I'd better be headin' back to me job 'fore I get a slap on the wrist."

"Ah, it can't be that bad, I'm sure."

"Trust me, son," said Seamus. "It can get that way sometimes…but don't let my foolish rantin' scare ye off from findin' yerself a nice lass. Yer just a guy, after all. Ye can't take care of yerself all yer life." He smiled and several teeth were missing but even so, some part of Angus wished he could be just like that. And then another part of himself pinched him mentally.

"I thank ye for yer help, Seamus," he said.

"Don' mention…least of all to me wife," he added with a laugh.

Angus was still chuckling as he reached the top of the hill. "Kay," he breathed. "Somebody's been dipping a little too much in the mead." Even as he said this, he thought of some future life, living like Seamus, when Draganta had fulfilled his destiny and the kingdom was at last at peace. 'It could happen,' he thought. Then, he gave himself a shrug and continued walking back to the castle.

* * *

Ivar placed his hand over Rohan's and a cloud of misty, purple smoke surrounded them. Just as quickly, they appeared at the court of Fin Varra, king of Tir Na Nog, who was busy teaching several faeries the art of story telling. When the knights appeared, he shooed them away and looked up at Rohan and Ivar with a slightly agitated pain in his side. "Yes, yes, what is it?" he asked. 

"Yer majesty," said Rohan, "We've encountered a girl who says she's from the future but doesn't know why or how she got here."

"Hmm," mused the fairy king, lightly pulling on his beard. "Well, I wasn't expecting this."

"Ye weren't?" asked Ivar.

"Nope. Can't say that I have," Fin Varra said. "Why? What's the matter? Is she a disturbance?"

"Well, no," said Rohan. He glanced at Ivar, who shrugged. "She's just…she told us we never existed, that we were just made up characters for her world's entertainment."

Fin Varra softened his usual gruff tone when he noticed how desperate Rohan was. The king bit his lip. "That is strange," he said. "But how can ye be so sure she's telling the truth?"

"We can't," said Ivar. "But she has done nothing to prove that she is harmful to us or to the Kells kingdom."

"Yet," said Rohan.

"Where did you find this girl?" asked Fin Varra.

"I found her," Rohan said. "She was being headed off by two Temran soldiers, who were obviously without a company to belong to now since Maeve's been banished. She ran away for a little bit before she stopped and recognized me as Draganta. I asked her how she knew me and that's when she told me about something called a 'television show' that was named after us. Could it be true?" he asked Fin Varra.

The fairy king shook his head. "It could be but I have not heard of anything otherwise. I'm sorry Rohan. I can't help ye this time."

"It's all right, yer majesty."

"Rohan," the king said. "Come back to me when ye have news on this stranger. I am very curious as to how this happened."

"As we all are," said Ivar.

They bowed and exited, leaving the fairy king in utter confusion.

* * *

"You're kidding, right?" asked Christine as she walked around the spacious living quarters. "This is just one huge joke on me and any minute, Ashton Kutcher's gonna come jumping out of the closet and tell me I've been punk'd. I know this isn't my room." 

Deidre smirked. "You've never been given royal treatment before, I take it?"

"Not lately, no," said Christine. "So, princess…."

"Call me Deidre. I think you've earned the right."

"Okay, then, Deidre," she said. "Now, I know your father said there's no roast but do you think I could sneak into the kitchens right now? I'm kind of famished."

"How long has it been since you've eaten?" said Deidre.

" 'Bout two days. It's no big deal really."

"I'd say ye are famished. C'mon," she inclined her head. "Let us hope Angus hasn't beat ye there."

"And if he has," said Christine, following Deidre out of the room. "He'll wish he'd been stealing from Cathbad."

Deidre sighed. "Well, thus far, I've not met a fair match to beat Angus with his appetite. Ye sure yer up fer the task?"

"I wasn't born like this, princess." They turned a corridor and began descending the stairs. "When I was a kid, my dad said I was much like a garbage disposal: I'd eat anything put in front of me, usually every two hours or so."

"Well that's not a nice thing to say to one's daughter."

" 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,' princess. I got him back for that one, don't you worry," Christine said, reminiscing about her father Henry soaked to the bone in freezing Atlantic Ocean waters in the middle of October. "I may be a bit rusty but I think I can handle the job. It's only food after all."

Angus skipped past the throne room and headed towards the kitchens. As soon as he arrived, however, he heard the distinct sound of womanly giggles. Immediately, he had a smile on his face. As he walked in, he found Deidre sitting a table and talking with Christine. There was a plate of fruits, day-old bread and cheese sitting nearby, barely touched. 'Two of man's three essential needs are about to be met in one sitting,' he thought rubbing his hands together. "Hello, ladies," he said.

Christine jumped. She had her back to him and did not hear him coming. She glanced sidelong at him. "Sneak."

"Thieves are well-practiced at that," said Deidre.

"Ah, that's former thief," he said to Deidre, though he was looking down at Christine.

"So," said Christine, blinking up at him, "Have you finished your errands yet?"

"Yep," he said, grabbing the handle to his mace, which slung over his shoulder. "It seems the reason for the missing livestock is just some…ruffian Temrans out looking for some trouble."

Christine shrugged. "If that's the case, I could probably pick them out in a crowd."

"Why's that?" asked Angus.

"They're probably the same jackasses I saw this morning. They had their helmets on at first but the shorter one took his off."

"Why?" Deidre asked.

"Because he agreed to duel with me without blades or armor. Would've kept his word, too, had Rohan not intervened." Christine took an apple off of the plate and took a bite, munching obliviously.

There was a small grin on Angus's face as he watched Christine talk about fighting with Temran soldiers as though it were an everyday nuisance. He glanced at Deidre, who in turn gave him a shrug. "Ye were going to fight a couple of Temrans?" Christine nodded. "Do ye have any idea how stupid that is?"

Christine's mouth dropped open. "Well, what else was I supposed to do? They each had an eye for me and it was pretty disgusting. I couldn't just let them take me, could I? And for your information, Angus," she said, sitting up in her chair. "Women are not as helpless in my time as you may think. Before I was born, there was a little movement called feminism, in which a tiny capsule called the birth control pill gave women a new liberation, as well as a new libido, I might add," she said to Deidre, "And it empowered those women to rise as equally or higher than men. And in case you haven't noticed, women do have a greater endurance for pain than men do…and the only time we bitch about it is when you're around and that's because we don't want you to forget what bullshit we have to put up with all our lives. I hope you're taking notes on this, Deidre. I'm not just giving Angus a lecture for my health here."

"I'm not going to forget any of this," Deidre said with a cocky grin. "I think this is the first time I've seen Angus being told off by a woman, except fer me. I actually kind of like this," she added, sitting back in her chair.

"I actually kind of like this," Angus mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "Yeah, well, ye would, wouldn't ye, princess?"

"Uh-oh," said Christine. "I think we've hit a nerve."

"I'll say," Angus said. "I was just coming in here fer a bite to eat and I have to get me ear blown off 'fore I do it."

"Well if ye weren't so bloody rude all the time," said Deidre, "Things like this wouldn't happen to ye. Yer just going to have to get used to watching that foul mouth of yers from now on."

"Aw, do I have to?" he mocked.

Christine held up the plate to him and said, "Here. Grab some more cheese to go with that whine."

He narrowed his eyes at her as he picked up a slice of cheese. "I think I will have some…because I'm hungry and not because I'm whining."

Christine put the plate down and crossed her arms over her chest. "I wish Ivar would hurry up and get here. He needs to teach Angus some common sense." The women giggled and Angus sighed as he took a seat on the counter.

"So, is that all you've been doing in here?" he asked. "Talking about how ye each hate men, is that it?"

"Angus, we're just teasing," said Deidre. "Don't take it so seriously."

"Besides, we don't hate men," Christine said. "We just love it when you're confused."

"Oh, well that's a relief," he muttered.

"Yer just a poor, lonely boy, Angus," said Deidre.

"And yer a rich, snotty girl…with a big castle and…and people to boss around," he retorted.

Deidre was taken aback. "Excuse me, thief," she snapped.

"Hey, hey, no random acts of violence, please," said Christine. "Just simmer down. I intended no harm. It's all for sport." She glanced at them both. "Right?"

Angus rolled his eyes.

"Princess Deidre," came a guardsman striding through the kitchen. He sunk to one knee and bowed. "There are some maidens outside that want a word with you."

Deidre sat up. "What for?"

"They said it was urgent…but they weren't specific. They just seemed agitated about…something and they want yer advice."

Deidre shot a look across the table. Christine shook her head. "Maybe they want to admire your boots?"

Angus frowned, confused. The princess nodded. Smiling, she stood up. "All right. Show me where they are," she commanded the soldier.

"Yes, milady," he said, standing up and turning on his heel.

"Should we come…you know, for moral support?" asked Christine.

Deidre thought about it. "Nah, this is a woman's job. And ye can't send a man to do it, neither, can ye?"

Christine rolled her eyes and turned back towards the table. She leaned her head against her hand and stared at the plate.

When the princess had left, Angus watched Christine as she sat idly, gazing out into nothingness. Finally, his curiosity got the best of him and he jumped off the counter to sit across from her. "What are ye thinking?" he asked.

Christine's stomach had been flipping even before the princess had left. She knew she was going to be left alone with Angus and as much as she was excited about it, she feared he would turn into something other than she had always known him to be. What's more, she feared her own mouth would run off and betray her.When he asked her that question, she felt like a schoolgirl as she bit the inside of her cheek and looked down at her fingers, attempting to hide her blush. "Nothing spectacular," she said. Her feet were tapping on the ground.

"Ah, c'mon now," he said, reaching across the table to nudge her shoulder. "Ye don't have to be shy around me. I'm Angus…of Kells."

Christine laughed and to Angus it was something heartfelt and overjoyed. "You always did do that…on the show, I mean."

"Do what?" he asked.

"Give yourself a title. Well, since the others were royalty and you always felt left out, you gave yourself that title to use so others would take you seriously. A very hard thing to do, I might add," she said, looking up at him. Suddenly, she looked away from him, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks. "I feel so embarrassed."

"Why?" he said, choking back a laugh.

"Well," she sighed. "It's just…hard to explain really."

"Try me," he said.

"Oh, very well, if you insist," she said. Christine tried to think of something better to say than what she was thinking but frankly, honesty was the only way out of this situation. She never could lie, even if it was so simple as a compliment. She knew he read people like they were books, studied body language, and could tell if a person was lying or telling the truth. Which made it that much more difficult to say what she wanted to say. 'Ah, screw it,' she thought. "When I was kid, right," she said, looking at him. Her heart jumped in her throat. "And I watched this show…."

"Yeah," he nodded, not clearly understanding where she was going.

"Well, you were…always my favorite." Quickly, she hid her smile, the fire in her cheeks and the fit of giggles threatening to explode. And without reason, she continued, "You were a wise-ass and a loner and…you had a temper like mine. I guess even as a girl I always knew who I was because all I had to do was look at the people I admired." She bit her lip and darted her eyes from her hands to Angus to her hands again. She nervously laughed. "I can't believe I said that. I'm such a girl," she sighed.

"I've got nothing against that," he said.

Christine looked up at him but this time did not dart her eyes back down. "Really?" she said. "Because I've always had the distinct impression that girly girls bugged the hell out of you."

"No, they don't," he said, straightening. "In fact, I think it's…uh, cute," he said with an added air of righteousness.

"Wow," Christine breathed. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that word before." She scrunched up her nose in disgust. "I don't even think it suits you to use it."

"No?" he asked, wincing in thought. "Yeah, well, yer right. I hate that word. It's…well, it's girly," he sighed.

"Which proves my point about you not liking girly girls," she teased.

"I never said I didn't like them," he said, eyes wide.

Christine suddenly stopped herself. She stared at Angus and without warning, burst into uproarious laughter. "What the hell are we talking about?" she asked.

Angus started laughing, too. "I have no idea…but ye brought it up."

Christine slowed down. "I know. I didn't mean to rush into things, I just…."

"No, no, it's fine with me," he said, leaning towards the table. "I'm always rushing to get things done." He stopped himself. "Oh, I mean, wait, that sounded wrong, didn't it?"

Christine nodded. "I know what you mean."

"Thank Dagda, 'cause no one else does," said Rohan.

Christine whipped her head around. "Hi, Rohan…didn't hear you come in," she swallowed. "How long have you been standing there, anyway?"


	4. Chapter Four

_Note: I've recently received the VHS of MK. Oh, how the memories came._

Chapter Four:

**I'm not sick, but I'm not well.**

"King Fin Varra was not expecting Christine," said Ivar. "He seemed…for lack of a better word, surprised. I don't think I've ever really seen him so unnerved," he added, looking at Rohan.

Rohan nodded. "I noticed that, too. Yer majesty," he said, turning to King Conchobar. "Even though Maeve has been banished, do ye think she could still have some kind of power left within her?"

"It would not be possible," said the king as he leaned against the mantel of the fireplace. He furrowed his brow in thought. "When she left, it was certain that her powers were all used up. No. I just don't think she would waste her energy, if indeed she still intended to recapture Kells for her own."

"Besides," said Deidre, stepping forward, "I think we should be more concerned about Numaine and that beast of hers Lughad. It is only a matter of time before Kells will be under a major threat."

"If I may be so bold as to pose a question, milord," said Christine from behind Deidre, "Why would I be dragged into this universe where I don't belong? I mean, I suppose I can intimidate people but I'm not much of a threat…or a warrior."

The king glanced her over once and then smiled. "A warrior ye may not be but there have been far a greater man who has lacked the sensibility you possess. Take Angus fer example: he shows no great wit but his skills as a warrior are an asset to this kingdom."

Angus was beaming as he thought the king himself was rendering a compliment; however, his face fell and annoyed he became. Leaning over to Rohan, he asked, "Was what he just said a good thing or a bad thing?"

Rohan chuckled. "I think Angus has just proven yer point, yer majesty."

The king nodded. Then, he turned back to Christine. Her face was bright, curious, beseeching him for answers he did not have. It then occurred to him that she was more of the victim here than they were. There was no real threat she could pose to them, of that he was certain and he chided himself for feeling a base of doubt in the back of his mind. "I think the best we can all hope for is that something turns up soon. I am sorry that you have been taken away from your home Christine but one can only hope that that will all change for the good."

Christine bit the inside of her cheek. Unsure of how to respond, she did what came to her first and bowed her head. "Thank you, King Conchobar. Oh, I hope I'm pronouncing it right. My Gaelic's not what it used to be," she said with a quirky smile.

The king leaned down and pat her on the arm. "Ye did all right, milady."

Christine smiled and said no more, feeling the embarrassment flood to her face.

"Ah, Angus," he said, turning around to face the other knights. "What news have you on my villagers?"

Angus seemed to forget where he was. He shook himself. "What? Oh, right. Uh, yeah, I spoke with some o' the guards and they said it was a ghost but then I talked with this farmer by the name of Seamus. He told me to tell you that it's been nothin' but a bunch of poachers roamin' the farms. He says it's nothin' to worry about." Angus sniffed and crossed his arms.

The king raised his brow. "Oh," he said. "Well, that takes care of that…if you will please find these poachers the next time you go in the village, Angus," he added.

Angus's jaw dropped. "Yer Highness, I'm a Mystic Knight! Can't we get some o' the guards to do it? It's not like it's a real serious job."

"And your duty's to the kingdom of Kells, not just the castle, master of rudeness!" snapped Conchobar. "Which includes the people and all of their problems, no matter how mundane it may seem to you. Now, I expect this matter will be resolved within the week?"

"Yes, yer highness," grumbled Angus, casting beaten eyes to the ground.

* * *

As soon as they were out of the throne room, the four Mystic Knights led Christine the way around the castle, showing her the rock wall they often climbed. Rohan secured his knot around his waist and yanked, checking to make sure it did not fall loose. "Have ye ever climbed before, Christine?" he asked.

Yanking her rope, as well, Christine nodded. "Of course I have. It doesn't mean I'm very good at it, but I've had practice," she said.

"Well, then, allow me to show ye how to do it right," Angus said, swinging on his rope. "You'll be a natural in no time."

Christine shook her head. "I sincerely doubt that. I'm more inclined to trust the Princess on rock wall climbing than you any day, Angus but," she added as she placed her right foot on a small jutting rock, grabbing a hold simultaneously. "If I ever need one of Cathbad's potions, I'll be sure to look for you." She cocked her head to the side, grinned and then, proceeded to the climb the wall.

Angus snorted. However, he felt like someone had slapped him in the face. He was_ her_ favorite Mystic Knight, she had said. Above the others he had been chosen for once and yet there was something ironic in the way she acted towards him when the others were near. It was all just an act, then. The gears grinded in his mind and he wondered if what she had said to him was an act as well for when Deidre had been in the room, Christine was sharp as a blade. But when Deidre had left, Christine was stripped of her armor, it seemed, and broke down easily in front of him.

Unknowingly, Angus's temper was flaring. He stumbled on his first few steps but after a few minutes he had a firm hold to the wall. In the meantime, there was a slue of obscenities he considered using once he had caught up with her.

However, none were going to be used as soon as he looked up…right under her. He stared, mouth agape at the complexity wrapping her in a tight cocoon of blue heaven and felt his heart thumping faster to keep up with the blood attempting to keep a flow to the brain as his other parts heated up. He shook his head furiously and unfortunately did not realize the close proximity with which his face was to the jagged rock wall. He scraped his nose and yelped. A hand slipped loose from its grasp and he almost lost his footing.

Christine whipped around as soon as she heard him cry out. "Are you all right down there?"

"Of course I am," he lied, holding his nose with one hand and fumbling with his footing. "Don't ye think I know what I'm doing here? On second thought, don't answer that. I've had enough lectures from you today already, Miss-Perfect."

Christine shrugged visibly, "Fine. Be that way." However, as she turned back to continue her climb, she felt a tug in her chest and it wanted to fight back, yell at him and lash out irrationally…but there was another rope, one that was shorter and caused much friction between her and the wall building up her resolve, holding her back. She scratched her fingers against the rock, attempting to forget her childish outcries and focus on the climb. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Christine kept going forward and didn't turn back around again.

Once at the top, everyone had untied themselves and plopped on the ground, exhausted. Taking this opportunity of rest, Christine viewed the landscape with a silent awe. Her face was rigid and her hands were locked together across her bent knees. She lowered her head into her arms and revealed only her eyes to the rest of the world.

Angus watched her. It was his habit to study people, a cathartic hobby he had developed since those days as a young boy pick-pocketing. The person had to have some wealth strapped to his belt and had to be oblivious to how he maintained a watch on that wealth. Those were the people Angus looked out for because he always managed to walk more than ten paces away with the stolen treasure before the victim had even noticed it was gone in the first place. He had no qualms about stealing. The world had robbed him of a family or even a chance to rise above his station…that is, until he became a Mystic Knight. That was when stealing was no longer an obscenity. Fame was his newest flame and it flared up every time Rohan or one of the other knights was rewarded with cheers and recognition. As much as he tried to avoid his envy, he could not ignore it at times. Then, he would revert back to watching people. He would watch those people who flocked to Rohan, observed the way in which they all cried his name in thanks. It grew within him to feel like an unknown entity, a stranger unto himself.

But watching Christine stare out at the world alone made him think he was observing his own reflection. He shuddered at the thought.

"Ye forget yerself?" asked Rohan, tossing his rope to the ground.

"Oh, ha, ha," Angus said. "I'm just…annoyed," he muttered.

Rohan looked confused. "Why?"

Angus leaned over and lowered his voice so they wouldn't be over heard. "There's a word…for people like her. I just can't think of it and it's bugging me." Deidre had walked up to Christine and they had struck up a conversation. Ivar was still untying his own rope nearby, though he could hear what Angus was saying.

"Who? People like Deidre?" Rohan asked.

"No, Christine," Angus said. "I can sum up the princess in one word…easy. Let's see, 'rich,' 'bossy,' 'negative,' not to mention…."

Rohan stopped him there. "Watch it, friend," he said, glaring down at Angus with cold eyes. "To you she's just the princess."

"Oh, right. Sorry lover boy," Angus teased. "I forget how mad ye are sometimes around her."

"And like you're not mad yourself?" asked Ivar, leaning in between them.

"What? Me? Over who?" Angus asked.

"Who else but the very one you discuss?" Ivar said. Angus frowned. "You're obsessed, Angus," Ivar said. "Since we first met Christine, all you've been doing is staring at her, not-to-mention setting yourself up for one faux pas after the next."

"I've been what?" said Angus, feeling indignant.

"I think ye have to dumb it down a bit," Rohan said. "He's not getting it."

"Not getting what?" Angus asked. "So, okay," he relented. "I watch her. But what's not to watch? Easy on the eyes, she is and that's all," he said with his hands in exaggeration. "Even you should be agreeing with me on that one, Ivar."

Ivar blinked and shrugged. "I am not denying that I don't find Christine in the least bit attractive. However, from what I can tell, the future has become more or less obsessed with pointing out those factors in women…a habit quite similar to the one you have, Angus."

Angus smirked. "What's not to love about the future if it's full of women dressed like that?"

"It's shallow," said Rohan. "At least, that's what I think Ivar is trying to get at."

Ivar nodded. "Indeed."

"So…ye think I'm shallow? Me? Shallow?" Angus paused. "What have I ever done to you, huh?" he said to Rohan.

"Oh, here he goes," Rohan muttered.

"No, I'm serious. What have I done to you to make you so resentful of me judgment in women?"

"Shall I give ye a list of all of the maidens in the village of Kells alone?" Rohan asked. He glanced at the girls. They were laughing and occasionally looking back at the boys to see if they were being overheard. "I think the fresh air's cleared out yer mind, my friend," he said to Angus. "And I think I know why yer annoyed."

"Oh, ye do, do ye?" Angus asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at Christine without realizing he was doing so.

Rohan walked behind Angus and clapped him on the shoulder. "Just keepin' ye on yer toes, mate," he said.

Angus rolled his eyes and continued staring. Then, a word came to him and oddly enough, it fit his thinking: confusion. "Yeah, she's confusing all right," he muttered.

"So what d'you think the boys are talking about?" asked Christine as soon as Deidre had sat down next to her.

"Us, probably," she said.

Christine smirked. "Funny. I was going to say battle strategies."

Deidre sighed. "Yeah right. Ivar may make a suggestion to Rohan but if Angus is there with them, he's more likely to go off about Rohan and me." She suddenly went silent.

Casting a sidelong glance, Christine said, "It's obvious. You two, and I mean this sincerely, should just get a room and have at it. I mean, seriously, I think you've both played the friend game for a long time. Who cares what your father thinks? And besides, Rohan's the prince of Temra. Grant it, it's not the best kingdom to rule…but at least it's legal. You're not…afraid are you?" she added.

"No," Deidre snapped. "Of course I'm not afraid! He's just…Rohan's my best friend. I don't want anything to interfere with that."

Christine blinked. "Okay, maybe I'm just being weird but if he's your 'bestest friend in the whole wide world,' why not take it a step further? You guys are all about taking risks."

"But this is different," Deidre said. "We could end up hurting each other and I don't want to risk that."

"Nothing in life worth living for is risk-free, Deidre. You know this, I know you do."

"Why are ye so determined to see Rohan and me together?"

Christine sighed. "I'm just a sucker for medieval romances…and you guys are just making us single people jealous, what and with all that flirting you do. And don't deny it," said Christine with a mischievous grin. Deidre's mouth was agape in shock. "If you were any more obvious, my grandmother would have noticed…and she was blind, for Pete's sake. Hey, that was good," Christine added. "I should write that one down."

Deidre shook her head. "You sound just like Angus."

"Oh, don't go there, princess," Christine said.

"And why on Earth not? You've had yer fun, now I have mine."

Christine rolled her eyes. "All right," she sighed. "I'll bite. Have you anything you want to say about me and Angus?"

"No," said Deidre. "But now that you mention it," she added. "You seem to have had an unusual effect on him."

"Would you be surprised to know that's not the first time I've heard that?"

Deidre paused. "This isn't the first time Angus has seen a pretty face and I highly doubt you will be the last to turn his head. I don't mean any offense, Christine, because we've only just met; however, you seem to think of us as only the people who were portrayed by actors. That's not to say Angus is a bad guy. He's just…well, he's…."

"A womanizer. Believe me, I'm well aware," Christine said with a Cheshire grin.

"I'm just giving ye a warning…as a friend," said Deidre.

"Well, as a friend, I thank you. But as woman to woman…what do you think?" she asked, glancing over shoulder. "You think I could tame him?"

Deidre sighed. "All I've got to say is the best of luck to ye…Lugh knows why yer trying at all."

"I always fall for the comedian. I won't lie," said Christine. "Besides," she shrugged, "There's no harm in trying at all. I haven't much to risk, have I?"

"You do have a point," said Deidre. "But, if I may add, don't do anything that would leave him scarred. He is my friend, after all."

There was a long pause, as they had nothing else to say to each other until Christine thought of something, which made her laugh. " 'I'm not even supposed to be here today.'"

"So, ladies," said Angus quite suddenly from behind them. Rohan and Ivar were on either side of him. "Are ye ready fer the real climb because ye do know that that back there was just a practice run, right?"

Christine looked up at him and laughed. "Practice…sure. And I suppose grinding your nose on the rock wall was just a rehearsal for an even bigger fall, then?"

"It was just a scratch," he said, unconsciously rubbing the bridge of his nose where there was dry blood.

"Ah, we'll have Cathbad fix that right up fer ye, Angus, as soon as we get back to the castle," said Rohan.

"We should be heading back," said Deidre, standing up and dusting herself off. "It'll be dark by the time we get to the castle."

"And I'll be starved," said Angus.

Christine rolled her eyes at him and then turned to look once more at the landscape.

Deidre led the way towards the edge of the cliffs and grabbed up her rope. Rohan and Ivar followed and as Ivar anticipated, Angus strayed behind. His hand gripped the handle of his mace as he had always done in the past. Looking out at the horizon, his head felt somewhat clearer. 'I guess Rohan was right about that fresh air,' he thought. He sighed and looked down at Christine. "Need a hand?"

She had been spacing out, wondering if this would be the last she would see of Kells, if by some chance a random wizard would whisk her back to her home and tell her he had grabbed her by mistake. It was a lame thought but lately, as Christine saw it, everything she had been doing around the Mystic Knights was nothing short of groveling. When he suddenly spoke to her, she stirred out of her reverie. "What?" she said and turned around. She saw his hand stretched out down to her, waiting. She got butterflies. Just then, she felt as though the dirt on her hands would not rub off as she dusted them on her pants. She took his hand and he hoisted her up. "Thanks," she said, looking away.

"Anything fer a fan," he said, tilting his head.

_P.S. note: I think it's funny how no one reads my stories and yet I'm still making notes in my chapters._

_P.P.S. Stealing, as much as it is a crime, not so much against humanity as it is against one's conscience, is an art…and Angus has perfected this art so well, he is the Monet of criminal activities. It's just an after thought…for all you fans out there._


End file.
